


Ghostbusters

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humour, Lots of it, M/M, Michael is a good bro, OT4, Obliviousness, Pining, i think, seems like a common theme in all my fics but im a sucker for it so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8237674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: “That sounds like I’m proposing to him,” Ashton says, grimacing. “Like an old English gentleman.”Michael lets out a low, amused huh sound as he settles down. “Doubt he’ll mind. He’ll probably jump you and say yes.” “Your other option is to walk in, declare your everlasting love and then suck his dick,” Luke says, shrugging. Ashton sighs, trying to rub away the headache that’s starting to throb in his temples. “So you’re telling me that your great plan is for me to just walk into his room and tell him that I’m in love with him? Gee thanks, guys, I’m never asking you two losers for advice ever.” A strangled sound comes from the doorway.  ~~~~~~~~~~Or, Ashton is in love. With Calum, obviously. Calum has no clue. Michael is bitter that his brilliant plan hadn't worked all those years ago and Luke? Well, Luke is on Michael's side. Basically, Calum finally frustrated Ashton into confessing accidentally to Michael and Michael decides that enough is enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JetBlackHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetBlackHeart/gifts).



> This one's for Aston cos he's awesome and he loves Cashton as much as I do ;) Aston, this is not the hawaii one I said I was writing but...I hope you like it? IDK ALRIGHT IT JUST HAPPENED. 
> 
> OKAY. Here's another one! I've started writing this WAY WAAAAYY back during the British (?) leg of SLFL when we got to hear about Calum's little ghost story. And so...yes, I have been attempting to finish this for month. ANYWAY...So here's my spin on that little tale.
> 
> Also, apologies in advance for any mistakes in here. I've edited a couple of times but I'm guaranteed to miss things. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If Ashton was to ever live a quiet, peaceful life, he was definitely going to have to quit the band. Or at least find a creative way to dispose of Calum Hood.

Calum is a danger to his health and more worryingly, his _sanity_ , having wormed his way under Ashton’s skin just over four years and showing no intent to leave. He’s there for life, Ashton’s figured out as the years went on, and Ashton needs some way to get him out of his head.

“He won’t _stop,”_ Ashton groans into the kitchen bench top from where he’s sprawled on the barstool with his face pressed into the faux-marble. “And I’m going out of my fucking mind.”

“There, there,” Michael murmurs absently, petting his shoulder, texting with his other hand.

Ashton groans again. “He’s fucking gorgeous and I hate him,” he cracks finally, breathing out the words in a rush. “I can’t fucking _concentrate_ lately and it always comes back to him.”   

“Holy shit,” Michael says, suddenly paying attention. He yanks Ashton up by the shoulders so that he can stare into his eyes. “Did you just—did I hear that right?”

Ashton doesn’t dignify that with a response, focusing on keeping the heat out of his cheeks as Michael latches on to the confession that he hadn’t meant to let slip. He avoids Michael’s penetrating gaze, eyes jumping all over the room to escape the weird mind-reading thing Michael does when he wants information and can’t get it the easy way.

It’s unfortunate really…because it _works,_ and Ashton would much rather it didn’t.

“Holy shit,” Michael says again, letting go and moving back with an incredulous laugh. “I was starting to give up hope.”

Ashton sighs and leans back on the barstool. “Hope about what?” He asks.

“Don’t give me that shit, bro,” Michael hoots, shaking his head with a grin that digs sharp canines into his lower lip. “Calum has been your main boy since day fucking one.”

“How do you know it’s Calum?” Ashton questions, trying to keep his voice neutral. “I never said a name.”

Michael stares at him for a moment before blinking and looking away with a baffled, offended expression. _“Okay._ I’m going to pretend that you don’t think I’m stupid enough to fall for that.”

“I hate my life,” Ashton mutters, closing his eyes.

Michael hums, patting his arm.

A silence falls as Michael gets distracted by his phone and Ashton focuses on breathing, in and out, falling into the pattern of his meditation to try and stop his whirring mind from spinning back to Calum like an overly enthusiastic boomerang.

“Remember that time you said Calum would be the easiest to eat?” Michael says conversationally a few moments later as he sets down his phone. “Guess you meant it in a different way.”

Ashton glares at the counter top. “Go _away_ , you shit.”

“Calum thinks you’re distractingly gorgeous too, by the way. His words, not mine, even though he _was_ drunk at the time. He would love to eat you.”

 _“What?”_ He shoots up to stare at Michael. “He what? Wait…how do you know that? Also, _fuck off._ ”

He thinks he might burst from frustration at the slow smirk that curls across Michael’s lips.

"What do you think Calum and me do at 4 a.m. when we’re jetlagged?"  Michael asks, rolling his eyes. “Braid each other’s hair? His verbal filter is utter shit when he’s tired, you _know_ that. I save my interrogations until I get the chance.”

"Calum and _I_ ," Ashton corrects, just to be an annoying shit because Michael is steadily hammering away at his patience.  

Michael steps back to grab his juice carton from the kitchen counter. "Well, we both know you'd prefer _Calum and you_."

Ashton scowls at him.

"The question is," Michael continues, tapping the straw against his chin, "whether you're gonna be ballsy enough to actually make it happen or just act like the chicken shit you are."

“I am not chicken shit!” Ashton growls, crossing his arms.

Michael hums and eyes Ashton with a judgmental gleam in his eyes. “Calum is up in his room writing in his journal, which is a perfect opportunity right fucking there, and you’re down here, _pining._ Ergo, chicken shit.”

“Do you even know what _ergo_ means?” Ashton snaps.

Michael shoots him a dry look. “Therefore, you shit. Stop being an asshole and go do something with Calum’s.”

A loud snort comes from Luke who is passing by the kitchen, waggling his eyebrows before he disappears around the corner. “Nice one!”

Michael grins at him, waggling his eyebrows, and turns back to Ashton who is seriously considering quitting the band and moving to the Himalayas to become a monk and adopt a snow leopard. Maybe the leopard will _eat_ Michael. That’d be nice.  

“He slept in your _bed,”_ Luke calls from the living room. “In. Your. Bed.”

Ashton throws up his hands. “That’s an invalid argument! We’ve all slept in each other’s beds! I’ve slept in _your_ bed! And Michael’s!”

“And obviously avoided Calum’s,” Michael mutters.

“It was one time and it was haunted,” Ashton mumbles.

“That was _Luke,_ you idiot,” Michael groans. “Luke was the fucking ghost. We were trying to _help._ That was also almost four fucking years ago and you’ve done shit all about the gigantic _thing_ you have for Calum, and I’m not even talking about your boner. _”_

And so, four years later, the truth comes out. Calum’s ghost had been Luke.

Ashton glares, ignoring the boner comment, however true it might be. “You scared him into my bed.”

Michael smirks, sucking on the straw and letting out an irritating slurping noise. “Yep,” he smacks his lips, looking way too satisfied with himself. “Would’ve worked too if you’d had the balls to kiss him that night.”

“He was terrified!” Ashton hisses, knowing full well that it just sounds like he’s in denial. “He literally jumped into my bed, _shaking.”_

He’s not. In denial, that is.

“He was also sixteen and arse over tit in love with you,” Michael says sagely, as if he’s suddenly the Calum-whisperer.

Maybe he is, because Ashton is learning things today that he never knew.

“Should’ve kissed him. Made him forget all about the big, bad ghost in his room by showing him the big, bad thing in your pants.”

Ashton melts back into the barstool, bracing his elbows on the counter and burying his face in his hands. He _hates_ Michael sometimes. “Was?” He asks quietly after a moment, looking up at his best friend.

Said best friend stares at him like he’s just sprouted antennae before shaking his head and mumbling, “ _unbelievable,”_ under his breath.

Ashton is offended.

_“Michael.”_

“Listen, bro,” Michael says, coming closer to lean his hip against the counter next to Ashton. “Calum is a lot of amazing things but he’s also incredibly stupid—like you, really…honestly, you fucking deserve each other—anyways, before you punch me, my point is you gotta _tell_ him how you feel.”

A sigh flows out of Ashton and he drags a hand through his hair. “So you’re sure he likes me.”

Michael gives him a Look™.

A Look™ that speaks of years of exasperation and suffering. Ashton thinks that Michael needs to stop being so dramatic.

“Yes, Ashton,” he says in the most monotonous tone Ashton has ever heard in his life. “I am a hundred per cent sure he likes you.”

Like he said. Dramatic.

“You should just tell him.” Luke suddenly walks in through the doorway, heading to the cupboard to grab a can of Redbull. He turns around as he pops it open and winks at Ashton over the counter. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Ashton just blinks at him until Luke makes a face. “The last time you said that, I had to walk two kilometres back to the hotel in nothing but my underwear.”  

Twin bursts of laughter come from Michael and Luke.

“And what a great day that was,” Michael says, wiping away an imaginary tear. “What. A. Great. Day.”

Ashton purses his lips, unimpressed, shuddering internally at the memory. “It was two in the fucking morning.”

“Your body is a great service to humanity,” Luke says, grinning as Michael holds up his hand for a fist bump. “An example for all men everywhere.”

“If you two assholes weren’t the only options we have, I would kick both of you out of this band,” Ashton grumbles, ducking away with a yelp when Michael reaches forward to ruffle his hair. _“Fuck ooooofffff.”_

“Like that, wouldn’t you?” Luke teases, sipping his Redbull. “Just you and Calum travelling the world. Alone. Taking indie photos of each other. Sleeping together.” Luke snorts then, cutting a wicked look at Ashton. “Not that you don’t do that already, minus the sleeping together.”

If Ashton thought his power to combat blushing had manifested itself as usual, it turns out he’s wrong. His face bursts into flames and he groans, rubbing hard at his cheeks. “I literally hate you.”

“Nah, you love us,” Michael states cheerfully. “But we understand that you love Calum more.”

“We got over it,” Luke adds, grinning. “We’ve accepted that we’ll never be Calum enough for you. It took years of therapy but we got there.”

Michael reaches over the counter to mockingly pat Luke’s shoulder. “S’okay, Luke. I love you more than Ashton loves Calum.”

“ _Aw,_ Mikey,” Luke curls into the touch with a beaming smile plastered across his face. “I also love you more than Ashton loves Calum.” 

“This band is so gay,” Ashton mutters under his breath, rubbing his palms down his face. “Alright, fuck you both very much. Now tell me what you think I should do.”

“You have legs,” Michael says like it’s on the tail end of a thought, suddenly tapping furiously at his phone. “Use them.”

Luke snorts. “What Michael means is, walk up those stairs, take a right turn and take the second door on your left. Walk in, open your mouth and say _Calum, my darling, I love you more than anything else in this whole world, will you go out with me?”_

That has got to be the worst idea he’s ever heard.

Luke lifts the Redbull to his mouth after that dramatic performance, throat bobbing as he gulps down three mouthfuls, and Ashton just eyes at him, ignoring Michael as he loses his shit and starts cackling into his hands.

“That sounds like I’m proposing to him,” Ashton says, grimacing. “Like an old English gentleman.”

Michael lets out a low, amused _huh_ sound as he settles down. “Doubt he’ll mind. He’ll probably jump you and say yes.”

“Your other option is to walk in, declare your everlasting love and then suck his dick,” Luke says, shrugging.

Ashton sighs, trying to rub away the headache that’s starting to throb in his temples. “So you’re telling me that your great plan is for me to just walk into his room and tell him that I’m in love with him? Gee thanks, guys, I’m never asking you two losers for advice ever.”

A strangled sound comes from the doorway.

Ashton’s blood ices over.

“I never said anything about his _room_.” Michael grins, reaching forward to thump Ashton’s shoulder. “Ball’s in your court, my friend.”

A slow, agonising death is what Michael deserves because holy _fuck,_ this is definitely what a devious Scorpio would do. He was texting _Calum_ the whole time. Ashton feels oddly betrayed.

Luke comes around the counter to thumps his shoulder. “Good luck,” he whispers.

“I…” the words get tangled up in his throat and all he can do is watch as Luke bumps knuckles with a grinning Michael as they slip out of the kitchen past a shell-shocked, frozen Calum. “Um.”

Ashton doesn’t get too much of a chance to string a sentence together because Calum suddenly seems to thaw out, stone expression cracking in half, determination glinting in his eyes. He takes a few steps forward, and then a few more, two, three more until he’s standing right in front of Ashton.

“Shit,” is what Calum says first, huffing out through his nose, sounding amused. He shakes his head, expression torn. “I can’t _think_ right now, you asshole _.”_

“I’m sorry?” Ashton says reflexively, sucking in a breath when Calum lifts his stupidly beautiful brown eyes to his, a smile curling into his cheek.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Calum murmurs, suddenly fisting a hand into the collar of Ashton’s shirt and pulling him forwards.

Ashton stumbles, letting out a surprised squawk before their mouths collide. Calum had always been braver than him.

The angle is weird and their teeth clack painfully before Calum lets out a breathless laugh and turns his head, slotting his parted lips around Ashton’s.

There could be a raging storm outside, a tornado tearing up the world, and Ashton would have absolutely no idea as warmth blooms in the pit of his stomach and the niggling itch under his skin is soothed away by Calum’s wondering hands, down his neck, across his back, settling on his hips.

Ashton buries his fingers in soft, curling hair and kisses back with his heart thundering against his ribs and liquid gold racing through his veins.

There’s a heated moment when they break apart with an echoing gasp—Ashton’s hands cupping Calum’s jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, Calum’s fingers pressing bruises into Ashton’s back—eyes boring into each other’s.

“So, uh,” Ashton says quietly, “I might be in love with you.”

Calum’s eyes light up and the smile that pulls up his lips is radiant.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Thank fuck!”_ Michael’s voice echoes from the hallway outside. _“I was getting old waiting for this!”_

Calum’s smile doesn’t lessen one bit, that silly, dopey grin stretching ear-to-ear, and _god,_ Ashton loves him.

“I love you,” he says again, tipping their foreheads together.

Luke’s quiet, squeaking laughter drifts from the living room. _“Break out the champagne, we’ve got celebrating to do!”_

Amidst the two of them crowding into the kitchen, riding catcalls and wolf whistles, banging open cupboard doors to pull out glasses, Calum huffs a fond laugh, grinning for a moment before he pulls Ashton into a kiss that says everything that Calum doesn’t verbalise. Every press of fingers and tug of their mouths has Ashton pulling him closer, heart full and relieved, ecstatic even though Michael and Luke are bouncing around them.

Calum only pulls away when the cheap bottle of champagne gets emptied over them, grinning and spluttering as foam drips down his cheek. Ashton groans a little, swiping a quick hand through his soaked hair, and reaches forward to lick the sticky sweet trail, Calum’s jaw held firmly between his hands.

“I wish I could record this and post it,” Michael says, empty bottle swinging between his fingers as a wistful sigh crosses his lips. “Shame that the fans can’t see you two finally getting your shit together.”

Ashton would respond but he’s a little lost in the wicked shine of two beautiful brown eyes. Calum winks, leaning forward to pull him into a kiss that tastes hot and warm and a little like champagne.

Luke is cackling, phone held between his fingers as he films the scene. “Dunno, I figured we _should_ record it, for posterity. Then we can show it at the wedding.”

“Fuck you,” Calum says cheerfully as Michael explodes into a fit of cackles, flicking champagne droplets at Luke before he turns back to Ashton. “And also, fuck you for not telling me all this time.”

“I…” Ashton sighs, letting his hands drop to Calum’s hips. “Didn’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

Calum chuckles, thumb swiping across Ashton’s lower lip to wipe away champagne and sticking it into his mouth. Ashton almost chokes—no, he definitely chokes, absolutely swallows his tongue as his eyes follow the finger between plump lips.

“Um,” he says.”

The thumb slides out, shining with saliva and the lips stretch into a sharp, amused grin, tongue poking out to wet the lower lip. It’s all he can see, vision tunnelling in until his entire body is focused on the slick finger and rosy lips

Ashton can feel his brain deflating like a popped balloon, blood fizzing through his veins, his heart thundering in his ears as he tries to swallows but suddenly can’t past the bone-dry scrape of his throat.

 _Stop doing that,_ is what he means to say. “Unngh,” is what comes out of him.

A bright burst of laughter snaps his attention open and his eyes fly up to meet Calum’s laughing brown eyes. An arched eyebrow greets him.

Ashton flushes.

“Holy _fuck.”_ The kitchen echoes with peals of laughter as Michael doubles over in the corner of Ashton’s line of sight. “Doesn’t take much to get you going, eh Ash?”

“Fuck off, Michael,” he groans, dropping his head.

Calum is grinning when Ashton lifts his head back up and there’s a dark, hungry wildfire burning in his eyes before he surges forward to catch Ashton’s open mouth. Ashton groans, unable to stop himself, curling his hands around Calum’s hips, nails digging into the shirt material, and opens his mouth to Calum’s demanding tongue.

There’s a sound muffled against his mouth and two hands in his hair and Ashton pulls Calum in until they’re pressed together, hips aligned, biting at Calum’s full lower lip before soothing it over with his tongue.

In that moment, with the sparks of arousal in his blood and champagne sticking to his skin, Ashton wouldn’t be anywhere else. He’s finally got Calum and he’s kissing him like he’s been dreaming about since he was eighteen. Best fucking day of his life.

Even _if_ Michael and Luke are watching it all unfold with smug grins and won’t ever let him hear the end of it for the rest of his life.

Even then.  

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was it! I really hope you guys enjoyed this little crack fic, it's not very long so who knows why it took me like two months to write this...
> 
> ANYWAY, thank you so so much for reading this and pleeeaaseeee leave comments if you enjoyed reading it (or even if you didn't) because as I say every time, I'm a sucker for comments. 
> 
> Thank you so much <3 And come say hi to me on tumblr @ aneverendingreplay


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